The essence of the cosmos and the most subtle meaning of creation is Prophet Muhammad, peace and blessings be upon him. He is in a sense the root and the fruit of the tree of creation. The lyric of existence has been composed for his sake, and his body is like the final word of this poem. His honoring the earth was a sign for a re-birth of humanity; his prophethood was the means by which the veil over natural phenomena was removed; his emigration was the path of salvation for humanity; and his message is the bridge for bliss in both this world and the world to come. Thanks to his teaching, believing hearts have perceived the world as an exhibition, they have read the universe as a book, and have found the true route in his glowing milieu that lead to the Almighty Lord. Souls who have awakened to the truth related by him aspire for eternity; those who have grasped his reality have also obtained the essence of knowledge.

So many years have passed, but still Prophet Muhammad’s presence is as bright as a star rising just over the horizon; it is a source of light that is as powerful as the sun, which illuminates all the world—indeed, the sun is crowned by his light. The prospect of his duty is full of the subtle wisdom that offers our hearts a consciousness of servanthood. His spirit, which is saturated with love, is a sign of majesty relating all of existence to one another.

Entering any place that reminds them of his lofty presence, believers feel love flow through their veins. Taking one step into his aura, they find themselves in the middle of the road that leads to God. A visit to his town is as if one is setting off from a launch pad to the Age of Light, and believers feel as if they are sitting knee-to-knee with him, instilling in their saturated hearts a fresh enthusiasm. No matter how many times one has visited him, or even if one notices the fading on the bloom of this blessed sanctuary caused by the destitution of his followers, whenever one proceeds to this green dome they will be filled with love; showered with music, they will change pace, and will find themselves in a tide of joy and sorrow.

Facing the Green Dome, which appears to be soaring in the sky, up until the Farthest Lote-Tree, pilgrims, in the presence of this site of splendor, fall into deep contemplation over the circumstances that the Islamic world has found itself in. It is a moment of encounter with the sincerest feelings, and the pilgrims are immersed in a storm of emotions, thousands of different feelings pouring through them. A kind of haze enshrouds this blessed sanctuary, and the mosque is suffused with sorrow. Right at that time the Green Dome rears high, speaks to our soul, and positions itself next to the pilgrim, imploring the heavens, presenting the tale of our longing. Sometimes at the Prophet’s Mosque, everywhere is filled with light. It becomes the corona around the moon, and the dome seems to be offering the residents of heaven thanks for bliss. Projecting to the skies the dome appears, with its profound silence and silent grief, as an interpreter for all your troubles and a singer who expresses all your joys. All at once, in its deep silence and quiet cry one can hear so many things that are naturally inaudible, and it feels as if one has risen above the present dimensions to another plane.

The green dome and the encircling holy mosque are perfectly suited to this terrain, with hills both small and large, vast deserts and oases, all lying under the infinite skies. It is such a perfect harmony that one cannot help but feel as if this building was designed in the heavens and then manifested here. The outcome of this material-spiritual combination of the Green Dome (Qubba al-Hadra), which is more intense than the skies, the mysterious land embracing it, and the lines and pages of the book of nature that is displayed in this holy territory, stands like a place where all these have been carefully selected and immaculately positioned, and the heavens and the earth have merged. The moment they enter the aura of this place pure souls which have some affinity with the Master of this site feel as if they have joined the residents of the heavens—may our souls be sacrificed for this Master. Once they reach the Encounter, the true garden of lovers, they are overly thrilled, sometimes to the point that their hearts stop beating, by the immense excitement that pours over from the pure faces found in an unspoiled compliance; indeed, the number of those who are struck by this impact is not a few. The Encounter serves like a port and launching pad for the lovers. Once every loving heart has reached here, it enters a magical time corridor, as if it is setting sail to vast oceans or into the depths of the heavens. Then, they are aware of this most innocent and cherished form of this holy place, hearing it like a poem, tasting it like kawthar, the heavenly drink—every second is a shower of pleasures. Time at the Encounter is so luminous, so tender, and so open to dreams that every respecting soul who has reached here feels as if they are alive in the Age of Happiness and beholding the Messenger’s purest face, feeling his elated heart that is receptive to the revelation. The creak of the opening of the heavenly gates and the sound of Gabriel soaring above can be heard at the Encounter, while the sonorous sound of the Qur’an is echoed by the eagerness of the pilgrims who feel drenched by the showers of abundance from a blissful era. Pilgrims join this broad harmony, tears falling, melting in an all-embracing yearning for the Rawda that is constantly growing in their hearts, and they desire to pour into the Tomb. Indeed, everything perceived in this sanctuary is as touching as can be. One hears words whispered from this sanctuary, from the household, and from all other things in this place. The cries and moaning of lovers echo on the fortunate but silent columns; the Encounter stands in sorrow, but smiles back at the beholders; two steps behind that rises the Tomb—it is not an ordinary grave, indeed, it is a place of circumambulation for the holy ones—and it glows through the grating with bliss for the eyes of our hearts, like a faithful guide. It is such a warm and powerful, yet private, behavior that every soul touched by it feels as if they have attained immortality. For these souls who perceive this point of intersection of the angels with these emotions, these souls who behold it from such a perspective, feel as if nothing, animate–inanimate, is present there, apart from a deferential silence and the collective waiting with the fervor of an audience. Once they step in, they are absorbed by it and they remain listening. In return, this sanctuary starts narrating its own manners and silence while injecting untouched emotions they never felt into their hearts, and opening doorways of implications of all types in their spirits.

Their joy reaches a climax at the Garden of the Prophet (Rawda) when they meet a magic that enchants the eyes and the hearts. They pass through wondrous gates and listen to the primordial sermon that has been shaped by the Word of the Lord directly from His preacher’s mouth. They prostrate with the delight of being a member of his community.

Such ecstasy and joy is certainly a communion of a strong faith, conviction, fondness, and a profound perception. For those with this level of perception, the Prophet's Village, the Mosque, and the Encounter—the lover's stop—have so much to speak of! With its unique stand, expressive silence, honorable appearance, and spiritual profundity, the Rawda sings of the joy of existence, plays the best melodies from the heavenly choir, pouring embers into sincere hearts, with everyone being filled with the love of reunion. Then, it returns to its deep silence, leaving one in a sorrowful loneliness in this tent of reunion; wrapping itself back into its ancient immaculate nature as if it has not uncovered any mysterious veil until that very moment, nor forgetting to leave an invitation for a second call.

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